OOM: Yorktown, 1888 -- rally the troops

[ikissdhimbck]

[Sometime after this:]



When Kate leads Butch out her door, they end up in an ordinary bunkhouse. It's where she and Mireille have been staying the past few weeks. The robot woman is happy to see them, but they don't stay for long. Today's the day.

The gang's riding in.

Beaut and Salty are already saddled up; the latter is one of John's dapple grey geldings. He'll be Butch's main legs while he's here. It's about a half hour ride to Yorktown, a good portion of which takes them through John's property, so there are no problems to speak of.

Hopefully, as they ride up to the fancy saloon in the heart of the town, that luck will continue.

Comments

[one_day_ace]

"That'd be a long haul," Ace agrees. Doesn't quite look put-off by the other man's smile but it's a near thing, a grin about the farthest thing from his mind at the moment and he can't help but wonder privately about the kind of person this Jim Lowe is.

But then he's about to be the same kind of person, isn't he? Or start off down that path. The thought itches at him and makes his blood hum with anticipation like he's touched a live wire.

Tries not to show it, best as he can. "My stock ain't nothin' fancy, but they'll see you through."

[ikissdhimbck]

He's young. Even if he ain't but a few years younger than Kate, he looks like a colt: wobbly-footed; stern of face; body twitching like this new thing called air might decide to attack at any minute.

She takes a slow draw off her whiskey, catching his eye over the rim of her glass. Her gaze cuts into him, a soundless blue calm down over the din of the saloon.

The tender drops off clean glasses with a stilted nod and grin, eyes decidedly too far south to be looking at Kate's face. She thanks him, pleasant, and waits until he moves off again to address the table.

"Anything'll do, Mr. Lehane. Though, Jim'll hafta get an eye on 'em, see what he thinks. If all goes smooth, we shouldn't have anythin' t'worry about. There's two more men comin', then we can talk business."

[hell2houston]

Kate couldn't have timed her remark any better. Just then, the other two come moseying on in. They're the kind of gruff that gives one the impression they've been wearing the same set of clothes eight days straight, rolling in the dirt as a way of keeping clean. She gives a nod to one, who hits the other in the shoulder and points out the table.

They walk up, just a couple of Dishonest Joes, and make themselves right at home.

"Mr. Lehane, Mr. Lowe, I'd like you t'meet Mr. Ferguson an' Mr. ... " Kate trails off.

"Adler," comes the answer in a thick German accent, along with an outstretched hand. "Like the eagle, ja?"

He grins, two of his teeth missing.

"And where're you fine gentleman from?" Ferguson asks, reaching for the whiskey.

[i_got_vision]

Butch knows the type. Hell, he's been the type--he wasn't always a fine upstanding citizen like he is now. Why, he used to be a traveling horse racer...

"Nice to meet you two gentlemen," he says, raising his glass in a sort of salute. "I'm from Wyoming, myself--long way from home, but of course we all are, aren't we? Far from home, and yet this is where we belong. I love Texas."

He's not drunk. He's just like this normally.

[one_day_ace]

Jim Lowe may not be drunk but Ace doesn't know that. His eyebrows briefly crawl up before he can straighten his face again and offer both of the newcomers nods. They're not so much to look at but then, he figures, that's the business he's gotten himself into now.

"From here, mostly." Those three words pretty much cover his ranch-hopping past, or at least as well as he's willing to go into it for introductions. Then the manners that got drilled into him as a child make their reappearance and he offers up a "Pleased t'meet you," even though he's not a hundred percent sure that he actually is. But this is what it's all about, isn't it? Disreputable jobs come with disreputable types.

And he can't deny that as calm as he's tried to make himself since Kate's wordless reminder, there's as much excitement as apprehension inside of him.

[ikissdhimbck]

Excitement, apprehension — it's all the same when it comes down to it, isn't it? Kate's stiff, her usually friendly features drawn in hard lines, a frown tugging at her lips. Her gaze passes between all four men before settling on the table.

"Glad y'could join us."

She leans forward, and the devil's dancing in her eyes.

"Shall we get down to business?"

[hell2houston]

"Oh ja, ja."

Adler gives Butch a friendly nod, eyes narrowing on the young Mr. Lehane. Ferguson's eyes stay on Kate.

"Wouldn't mind a li'l time t'finish me whiskey, ma'am, but you go on an' move them pretty lips of your'n."

The look she casts is sharp, but he has unconcernedly moved on, reaching out to shake Ace's hand.

[i_got_vision]

Butch pours himself another glass of whiskey and settles in to listen to Kate explain the plan.

He's never done this kind of job before--never done a job with men who are, essentially, strangers to him. It's always been friends, or whatever the hell Harvey Logan counts as; they know each other, they've ridden together sometimes for years, they know how each other will react under pressure.

But on the other hand, familiarity breeds fistfighting and rivalries. Maybe it's better not to know each other that well; maybe it'll keep them all on their best behavior, because nobody knows what anybody else is really capable of doing.

He'd do it either way, though. There's a boyish sense of adventure--or, considering Miss Barlow, maybe it's not boyish, maybe it's universal.

He wouldn't trade it for anything.